Små Dyr
by nursehelena
Summary: Toki reaches his breaking point, during captivity.


_Hallo, små dyr,  
__Hvorfor er du så sjernet?  
__Er du redd for at jeg ville ødelegge eventyret?_

That song highlights the only happy days Toki remembers of Norway. It brings spring winds over the mountain, blows him chilly while ushering the snow back into the atmosphere. When his mother sings, that short verse wafts over the hill separating them from their respective work grounds. Toki always pictures a line of rabbits, mice, and maybe a fox or two trailing happily along behind. Unfortunately, whenever _he_ takes up the tune, nothing happens. Truth lays in the lyrics: small animals shy away for fear that their adventure will be ruined.

In Toki's head, the sky over the first home he ever knew is black. Any colour beyond its former blue dulls as well; uneasiness sends Toki scurrying into a break in the firewood. Shrouded by shadow, he watches unblinkingly as his mother's cloaked figure moves across the field. Her song drifts in one ear and out the other, forming a string to rope him along on. If Toki stares hard enough, small animals leap through the deep snow. They materialize and disappear at will. Turning in the air erases them from existence, then his mother's wavering soprano tugs them back. Toki sways side to side by her volition. The sky flickers, his lips move in feverish synchronization, then dim sunlight filters through a barred window rather than viscous clouds.

"Toki? Can you hear me?"

He still hunches in shadows, eyes wide. Hissed whispers bounce around the constant _drip drip drip_ of water. Toki claps a hand over his mouth to cease the slithery vocalizations. Abigail's silhouette somehow expresses concern. She speaks again, but Toki forgets more English with every word formed by her broken, dry lips. He smiles, or something like it. His cheeks pull sideways on weak muscles, elongating toward his ears. Obscured teeth evolve into something more suitable for draining the life from a vulnerable neck. The dungeon brightens as new eyes collect more light. He scratches his nails against the floor. Would the one that collared him please come back? This chain can't contain him anymore, and he'd love to prove that with one true lunge.

_You can't see me, because I'm invisible._

_You can't break me, because I've never been human_.

_You can't starve me, because I know no hunger._

_You can't kill me, because I'm already a ghost._

He blinks. Norway, again. His back stings, wet and chilled with blood. Nappy fur softens the ache as he slides forward into broad paws and snout. The silence ends with the thrum of prey beating their path, darkness becomes his friend, and a lilted tune draws him nearer. Pupils dilate in mingled excitement and impatient appetite. The field flies beneath him, his paws hardly leaving a mark, then his jaw closes around—

"_Toki_."

Not his jaw. Hands. No more paws. Back in the dungeon. Something squeaks and writhes in Toki's grasp. One of those rats, it turns out, that he's seen running around. Toki whispers again, fast, the same song stringing through his mind all the way from Norway, all the way from two decades ago. Hello, little animals, why are you so shy? Are you afraid I might ruin your adventure? He remembers English again, he realizes, as Abigail's frenzied pleading finds traction in his psyche.

"Put it down, okay? Don't hurt it."

His empathy's completely zapped. Something in this place needs to feel. He clenches his hand's weak muscles for all they're worth, thumb and forefinger sliding into place around the rat's tiny neck. Its squeaks curtail in favour for thrashing. Toki's unrelenting gaze burns into Abigail's tearing eyes, and he feels nothing. Then he blinks and he's at his mother's mercy. She slaps him over and over, his back is wet against the snow, and small scratches sting his forearm.

"Let it go, Toki!" His mother begs. "_Du scremmer meg_, let it _go!_"

"Toki." Abigail's as close as her chains will allow. "Isn't there enough pain here? Don't make anything else suffer."

It takes every ounce of control Toki possesses, but his grip relaxes. The weak creature skitters away and glances back before disappearing into a hole in the wall.

"Thank you," Abigail whispers. Her eyes still shine, but Toki doesn't care. He crawls back into his corner, curls into a ball, and sets his sights on the door.

Would the one that collared him please come back?


End file.
